Wordsmith at work

  How I Kept Creativity Alive This Year Creativity, I’ve learned, is like a houseplant—neglect it and it will wilt away, but nurturing it brings the most amazing results.   Every human being is gifted with a creative streak, which shows up when we put our talents to use.   Creativity is an ongoing and ever-evolving process. Like an unused instrument or machine, your creative spark may gather rust if not tapped into regularly. Tapping into your creativity gives you something to do rather than letting your brain idle away. Each time you create a painting or write even a single line, your skills improve. As a writer, over the past ten months, I’ve tried to practice what I preach and have been fairly successful. No major literary award has come my way, but I continue to pound the keyboard for my own satisfaction and contentment. There are a few writing apps, such as YourQuote and Sheroes, that I use quite regularly. I love creating reels but lack the technical exper...

 December   The countdown to December starts in October. In other words, the countdown to Christmas begins then. For the Christian community, December is synonymous with Christmas. It’s party time and a period for family reunions. The preparations for the festivities begin in October or even earlier. Many thus wrap up December on a joyful and hopeful note, looking forward to a brand new start in the new year.  If I walk down memory lane, I’d find myself back in the little cottage that I lived in with Mom, Dad, and Brother. Mom prepared a fantastic array of Christmas sweets and savouries almost single-handedly. I so vividly recall dad stringing up the red and white streamers across the living room ceiling, the excitement of arranging the crib and decorating the Christmas tree and the can’t-wait-to-open presents.’ The best curtains and cushion covers were brought out, and little me faithfully penned a letter to Santa for quite a few years. I don’t remember attend...

  The girl in the picture is seven years old, and the woman is 61. The years in between have been filled with learning and unlearning.  I’ve started to age. It’s inevitable, and nothing truly prepared me for it. One day, you’re a lively adolescent, and the next, you wake up with stiff joints. Now in my salt-and-pepper years, I’ve come to accept certain bitter and hard truths about life, especially regarding relationships.  I no longer try to impress others. You’re free to like me or not. My circle of friends has shrunk, and I’m okay with that. I cherish the few good friends who stay with me through thick and thin.   I’ve realised that judging others is unfair. Everyone lives through different and possibly tough situations. Showing empathy is the way forward.   Age brings wrinkles, aches, and nostalgia, but it also brings wisdom and mellowness. I try not to complain but focus on my blessings. Good health is a blessing at any age, but as I gr...

  My excitement knew no bounds when I spotted the first bud on my hibiscus plant, and it was sheer joy that I felt when, a few days ago, I woke up to the beauty of a white hibiscus in full bloom. It’s been about 6 years since I became a plant parent, and I am enjoying every moment of the journey. My heart skips a beat every time I see a tiny new leaf or a plant I'd given up bloom again. There is no destination here—it’s simply a process of learning, planting, enjoying, and growing. Growing up, I watched my mother tend to her potted garden with so much love and care. It was her little world. Yes, I liked looking at pretty flowers, but I never took much interest in the gardening process. Mom retained her love for gardening until she passed away. I was well into my fifties when I felt a stirring as I looked at pictures of the most beautiful gardens, plants, and flowers posted by friends and folk on social media. Friends encouraged me to give it a shot. “ Growing plants is therapeutic...

 Moments of Kindness: When strangers are kind.     I have never met Gemma (name changed), but I am connected to her virtually. We occasionally speak on the telephone. Gemma and I were members of a Bible study group, and she was the leader of the group. Gemma is prayerful, supportive, and kind. I published a book of poems in December 2023 and shared the good news with the Bible study group. Gemma, being the kind of person that she is bought copies of the book for all 16 to 17 members of the group. I was dumbstruck. This was the greatest act of kindness that I have experienced in the 61 years of my life. We have yet to meet in person. Kindness costs nothing. In fact, it said, “ If you can’t be anything, be kind.” There’s something beautiful about kindness from strangers. It is a reassurance that the goodness of humanity still exists and that the thread of human connection still holds. Kind gestures from people we may never see and who don’t know us or our stor...

  Hitting The Wrong Notes   I grew up listening to Dad’s baritone as he sang his heart out. He loved to sing and sang at home, in church, or even as he rode his red and white Lambretta scooter. I cannot sing, but I sing anyway.  I enjoy listening to music. I may turn up the sound and dance like no one's watching when no one is watching! That I have two left feet is a story for another day. The joke in the family is that I sing falsetto. Walking down memory lane, I remember our singing periods in school—learning ‘The Owl and the Pussycat’ (I can’t recall the names of the other songs now), but I also have good memories of singing in rounds and singing Hindi classics like Yeh, Sone Ki Hai Dharti, and Malik Tere Bandhe Hum. We even had a Hindi singing exam until grade 7. I passed! I loved going carol singing and even today sing in church. My voice blends quietly into the voices of the congregation. I don’t really care that I cannot sing in pitch, though hub...

  If Love Knocked On My Door   I imagine love not as an abstract feeling but as a living presence. What would it say to me? It comes carrying appreciation and warmth, reminding us of the goodness inside us. Here’s what I think Love would say to me:   Hey you! May I come in? Open up, it’s me, love, the emotion you humans can’t stop talking about. I’m in your song, your books, your poetry, and your films. I bring laughter, warmth, comfort, and hugs. I can see that you’re already spreading me around pretty generously. I’m so proud of you. I see myself in the patience you have with your aged parents and the care you give to your spouse and children. Your empathy and compassion is born out of your love for mankind. I’m so happy that you talk about me and encourage others to make room for me, given the amount of hate that exists in the world today. I see you encounter difficult people, and it’s really hard for you to show even an atom of me towards them, but I can see...

The kitchen has always been more than a space to cook. It's a space where flavours and aromas stir up memories, love, and laughter. My poem is a tribute to this magical space that blends love with spice.  "For your every dish is a poem," said my father to my mother.   The kitchen is my domain. Queen of all I survey— Pots and pans, Spoons and knives, Jars of spices in proud array.   Turmeric, Chili, Cumin and Teel Flavouring every dish at every meal. Each a different, vibrant hue, With hidden powers, Meant to comfort and heal.   The sizzle of onions, the clatter of spoons A pinch of salt, a dash of pepper— A beautiful harmony On a warm sunny afternoon.   Chop and blend. Bake or fry - There’s an ounce of love In every pastry and pie.   It’s here where soups simmer And pots bubble, And spice meets the soul— That the heart is happy and whole. This post is part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025 Image cre...

I began using spectacles in my mid-forties or early fifties when I squinted to read the names of the lipsticks on the tubes, and they’ve been perched on my nose like two little watchdogs also helping me focus.  My spectacles are not just a medical necessity.  When I first started wearing them, I felt awkward, but now they’re me—an important part of my persona. Choosing a frame is an emotional journey and can be quite a time-consuming task unless you’re not particular about colour, size, shape, and how well the frame suits your face. You’ve got to decide whether you want the nerdy look or to go with what’s trending. I’ve worn the square and rectangular frames, the steel frame, and currently sport a hexagonal plastic frame. Contact lenses? That was never an option for me. To find them I would have to wear a pair of spectacles! The doctor gently told me that I would have to continue wearing spectacles even after cataract surgery, and that makes me a life me...

 The City Where Memories Are Currency   I visited the city of Memoryville, where memories are used as currency, and headed to the Memory Market, a square lined with cobblestone streets and vendors selling memories in little glass vials in lamplight.  Here was a market where you could trade sadness for joy, the memory of the time when you were ill for good health, your heartbreak for a fresh start, and your tangled thoughts for peace of mind. The wealthy traded their fame and success for laughter and nostalgia, while the poor sold the few good days for a little comfort. The next day, I felt a little lightheaded and empty. I couldn’t remember the faces of my parents, nor remember the earthy scent of petrichor that  I so loved nor the name of my favourite comedy show, the fun vacations that I’d enjoyed at my grandparents’ homes. I was in tears. I’d wish the thief had taken away the bad ones as well- but they were in a separate vial, locked in my closet. I...

 Unexpected Teachers.   We grow up being taught by teachers in a classroom, our parents, friends, mentors, and books, and we believe that they have the answers to all our questions. Then life comes along, bringing lessons wrapped in  pain, joy, grief, loss, illness, silence, heartbreak,our bodies,  creatures of the earth, and it's time to take notes again. These teachers don’t stand at blackboards or wear titles and labels. You don’t look out for teachers such as these; they come to you. Nature teaches you the art of patience. You develop patience while waiting for a flower to bloom. I learnt about grief when I lost my parents. It taught the value of what I had. It has taught me to continue living and survive the loss and not break down. It has taught me to cherish the memories.  Who can teach you better about failure than failure itself? Failure is cruel but brilliant.  Failure imparts lessons in humility, resilience, and the ability to start anew....

  12 Years: My Messed-Up Love Story   Book Title : 12 Years: My Messed-Up Love Story Author : Chetan Bhagat Number of Pages :  413 Genre – Contemporary Romance Publisher - Harper Collins India.  Story: There is chemistry and a connection between 33-year-old, recently divorced finance professional turned stand-up comedian Saket Khurana and 21-year-old equity analyst Payal Jain. Payal and Saket meet at a comedy club in Mumbai. What’s age got to do with it? Saket is glad to have a second chance at love, and inexperienced Payal, from an ultra-conservative Jain family, sees it as an adventure. Their relationship is messy, passionate, and often painful, spanning Mumbai and Dubai.  Themes: Age Gap Bhagat explores the complexities of nurturing a romantic relationship amidst a clash between tradition and modernity, as well as a significant age difference.   Modern Love The book examines the idea of love and romance in today’s digital age....

  Taking a Five-Minute Walk     I prefer walking to any other form of exercise. I don’t much care for structured routines, so I step out as often as possible—walking to the grocer, laundry, chemist, cobbler, bank, and even the salon. Once upon a time, I enjoyed walking in my neighbourhood. A friend once said, “You have the privilege of living in the city, without really living in it.” Far from the maddening crowd, tucked in a quiet corner, it was mainly residential, with quaint cottages and low-storied buildings dotting the landscape, a plethora of shady trees, a few old-fashioned grocery stores, parks, and a few tried-and-tested places to eat or simply hang out. In the past two years, the face of my neighbourhood has changed drastically. It now resembles a construction site. The older apartment blocks, cottages and bungalows are being demolished and replaced by towers that almost touch the sky. I look at them and pray that the residents in the towers remain saf...

      Dear Writer’s Block, It’s time we parted ways. Kindly make the break that you’ve taken permanent. You’ve been like a thorn in my side, sneaking into my brain, eating into my time, and stealing my thoughts, words, and sentences, leaving me as blank as a blank piece of paper. I love to write, and here you are depriving me of one of the greatest and most precious joys of my life. You make me believe that the ink has, for all intents and purposes, dried up, and I hate you for it.  I admit, for a while, you were the rest I needed when my thoughts were a tangled mess, but I’m okay now, and it’s time you left. I thank you for teaching me patience because the rest did me good. You cannot stop me. You are simply the pause I needed. I reiterate, "Do not return." I’m moving forward. I’m kick-starting the Blogchatter half-marathon with a farewell letter to you. My thoughts are flowing freely, and I wish to express them honestly.  I’m bound to make m...

  Love Your heart and mine Are gently entwined, Journeying together, Your hand in mine. You’re the friend, the lover I longed to discover.   I love you Just the way you are: I know I will never find another you.     Fear The little voice in your head, Your trembling hands, Your clammy palms— You’ve sensed a lion on the prowl. You’ve chosen to stay away from it all.   Fear twists the spoke in your wheel. It plants the thorn in your rose. Fear is the dragon you dread; You would rather lie all day in bed.   Look fear in the eye Until it shrivels and dies. Fear must not survive.   Anger When anger strikes, You unleash the beast inside. He’s either raging mad Or cold as ice.   Anger does you little good. Control it if you will— Only let a little spill.     Happiness Happiness is… The twinkle in your eye When she says hello , not goodbye.   Happiness ...